Paradise for Two. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ entertaining companion with charming manners. Only, over the years, the charm and the manners weren’t much in evidence—not with her at any rate. She said suddenly, cutting through his monologue, “Walter, when did you last look at me—I mean, really look?”

      He gave her stare of astonishment. “Look at you? Well, I see you several times a week when you’re here, don’t I? Why should I look at you? Have you changed your hair-style or lost weight or something?”

      “I don’t need to lose weight,” she said coldly. “I sometimes feel, Walter, like your daily newspaper or the old coat you keep behind the back door in case it rains…”

      He gave an uneasy laugh. “My dear girl, what’s got into you? You’re talking nonsense. It’s a good thing you’re going to this new job, you’ve been too long at that hospital of yours in London.”

      “You’ve asked me to marry you several times.”

      “Yes, well—there’s time enough for you to make up your mind about that, in the meantime you need to be occupied.”

      “You don’t want to sweep me off my feet? Rush off with me and get married?”

      She felt sorry for him, because he was quite out of his depth; stockbrokers didn’t like to be rushed.

      “Certainly not; marriage is a serious undertaking.”

      Prudence nodded. “Yes, it is. Walter, I don’t want to marry you. I’m sorry if it puts you out—I mean, you expected me to marry you when it was convenient, didn’t you?”

      “I say, old girl, that’s a funny way of putting it!”

      “But it’s true.” She got up and wandered over to the window. “I’m going to Holland for some weeks to stay with an aunt who’s ill.”

      “You haven’t any aunts in Holland.” She heard the tolerant amusement in his voice.

      “Courtesy aunts, one of them is my godmother and I’m fond of her. I think it would be a good idea if we parted, Walter—we can stay good friends if you want that, but don’t expect me to change my mind. I really will not marry you.”

      He had got to his feet, too. “Suits me. You’re a nice girl, Prudence, but you like your own way too much—men like a degree of meekness in a woman, especially in their wives.”

      “I’ll remember that.” Her eyes, large, brown-flecked with tawny spots, thickly fringed, flashed sudden anger. “I hope you find a suitably meek girl willing to marry you, Walter.”

      He said seriously, “Oh, I have no doubts that I shall.”

      He looked so smug that she itched to throw something at him, especially when he added prosily, “But I doubt if you’ll—what did you say?—find a man to sweep you off your feet. No hard feelings, Prudence?”

      “None at all, Walter.” She watched him go without a pang, but deep inside her she was conscious of panic; she was, after all, twenty-five years old and, although she had never lacked for men friends, she had never wanted to marry any of them. Perhaps she would never meet a man she could love and marry…

      Aunt Maud bustling in to ask if Walter was staying to supper dispelled her thoughts. Prudence wandered across the room and shook up a number of cushions which were perfectly all right as they were. “What would you say if I told you that I’m not going to marry Walter? We’ve parted quite definitely.”

      Aunt Maud said: “Well, dear, since you ask me, I feel bound to say I feel profound relief. Walter is an estimable young man, but in ten years’ time he’ll be pompous and bossy. None the less, he would be a good husband if one considers the material things of life—he would never allow his wife to be shabby, and the children would go to the right schools.” Aunt Maud sighed deeply. “But no romance, and that’s something I think you might not be able to do without.”

      Prudence flung her arms wide. “Oh, you’re so right, Aunt Maud, but where am I to find romance? And for the next few weeks there’ll be no chance to find it at all—Aunt Beatrix is a darling, but she hasn’t any family other than her sister, has she? And I feel in my bones that any doctors I may meet will be elderly and bald.”

      Her aunt agreed placidly and kept her thoughts to herself.

      There was a good deal to do during the next few days; according to Aunt Maud, Prudence’s godmother came from a well-to-do family and her sister lived in some style.

      “Somewhere in Friesland, isn’t it?” asked Prudence, her pretty head on one side, critically examining a dress she wasn’t sure she wanted to take with her. And, before her aunt could reply, “Do you suppose it will be good weather there? I know it’s May, but it’s a good deal farther north actually than it is here.”

      “A knitted suit?” suggested her aunt. “And tops and skirts—you could take a couple of thinner dresses in case it should really warm up.” She added casually, “I should put in a pretty dress for the evening, dear—your Aunt Beatrix knows a number of people there, and you might get asked out to dinner.”

      Prudence thought it unlikely, but her aunt looked wistful, so she packed a slim sheath of corn-coloured silk, deceptively simple and very elegant, and a silk jersey dress with long sleeves, a sweeping skirt and a square neckline cut rather low. It was of indigo blue, an excellent foil for her hair. It would give the balding elderlies a nice change from thermometers and stethoscopes.

      Prudence drove herself up to London in her down-at-heel little Fiat. She had friends at the hospital where she had been working, and one of them, the junior in the team of theatre Sisters, had agreed to garage the car at her flat provided she might have the use of it, a plan which suited Prudence very well. She left the car, took out her luggage from its boot and hailed a taxi to take her to her godmother’s flat. It was in an Edwardian building along the Embankment, very ornate outwardly, but a haven of quiet luxury once past its well-guarded entrance. Prudence left her luggage with the hall porter and took herself up to the first floor, to be admitted by her godmother’s elderly maid, a dour, middle-aged spinster with the unlikely name of Miss Pretty.

      Prudence greeted her cheerfully, knowing that beneath the gloomy face there lurked a loyal, kind heart. “The porter’s bringing up the luggage, Pretty. Is Aunt Beatrix in?”

      “Waiting for you, Miss Prudence, and tea on the table.”

      “Good, I could do with a cup. You are coming with us, Pretty?”

      “Madam couldn’t manage without me,” said Pretty austerely. “Not that I care for foreign parts myself, although it’s quite nice where we’re going.” Her stern features relaxed slightly. “Madam’s that pleased that you’ll be coming with her.”

      “I’m looking forward to it,” declared Prudence, and added, “Shall I go in? The drawing-room?”

      Mrs Wesley offered a cheek to be kissed. “Dear child, how nice you look! Sit down and let’s have tea. I thought a quiet evening? We shall be leaving after breakfast. That good man Best will drive us to Heathrow.” Best carried on a hired car business from the mews behind the flats, and Aunt Beatrix would have no other.

      “And at Schiphol?” prompted Prudence, sinking her splendid teeth into a scone.

      “My sister is sending her car to meet us.” СКАЧАТЬ